Other people's gardens

When away from my garden for a bit, I exaggerate what must be happening. All the crops must be ripe, the weeds taking over, time going by. I assuage my garden-missing by peeking into other folks' vegetable patches. Do they do things the same way? Are their tomatoes bigger than mine?

I noticed that at least one other person likes pretty lettuces, and sitting in the garden. Unfortunately, I couldn't get any closer, nor could I ask anyone much about what they were growing or if they had trouble with pests. I couldn't do much of anything I take for granted. Why not?


Here's some hints:
Hmm. Narrow streets, open-air markets, and . . .


Streetside cafes. It could be San Francisco.

It's not, though.

Eric and I just spent a week in Genoa, partly for a work conference for him, and partly for fun. I had most of the fun. Unfortunately, my Italian isn't really up snuff, so I was a genial but confused tourist much of the time.

The highlight of the trip, though, may have been a train trip down the Italian Riviera to visit another garden. Heiko and Susan picked us up in La Spezia and took us to visit their village and their land.

We were, I'm afraid, neither dressed for nor in shape for following them (and Eddie the adorable puppy) up and down their streets and lanes. I'd have loved to have spent more time with their neighbors, although seeing Mario's (I think it was Mario's) baby donkey and wild cinghiale was pretty terrific.


The village looks pretty from a distance:
Heiko made a lovely lunch for us from beans Susan had picked while he and I bounded up and down the terraces, talking and looking at the garden together. I think Eric was bemused at the amount of verbiage Heiko and I could produce, but he certainly liked the food.


We talked a tiny bit about the power of the internet to bring like-minded people together, virtually as well as literally, in this case. Gardening is intensely pleasurable to me, but connections such as this are the icing on the cake.